Since my early adulthood, I’ve been a fan of old furniture, preferably oak and pine. As with many things, those old pieces seem to be of better quality than anything you can find in furniture stores these days. And they all have stories, which, sadly, they’re unable to tell us.
In previous posts, I’ve shared photos and stories of some of the items in our home. A few things have family connections, such as this old table, and, of course, those are the most treasured.
There’s a wonderful little vintage shop in our town, and a couple of weeks ago, I stopped in for a visit. I was smitten with an adorable desk. ( Motor Man bought it for me…. oh, shall we say for…. Saint Patrick’s Day???)
The glass in the mirror is beveled, which is a good sign that the desk is rather old. The next picture shows the center space below the mirror. The “My Trip book was the subject of this blog post. The story about that little book is worth reading (or re-reading). The glasses belonged to my dad, who passed away when I was an infant.
That center section folds out to provide a writing surface.
And, apparently at some time in the past, there was a little ink mishap…or two. Just imagine all the handwritten letters that may have been penned on this surface in years past.
The doors in the bottom section open up to reveal an interesting little storage area. The wooden box isn’t part of the desk, but seems to fit well there.
Whenever we acquire an old piece of furniture, I can’t help but wonder about the folks who owned and loved it in the past.
If only we knew the stories this old desk could tell.
~These Days Of Mine~